Apathy
by darkangelkym
Summary: Echizen Ryoma lost interest in playing tennis competitively; there was no one who could beat him. Can the Seigaku regulars entice him back to the tennis court? Most likely YAOI.
1. Chapter 1

Summary:

Echizen Ryoma was born a prodigy in tennis, much more one than anyone could believe. However, he's completely lost interest competing in the sport due to boredom of not finding a worthy opponent. Now he just creates new skills occasionally, extending his own limits without competing. What can the Seigaku regulars do to entice him back to the sport?

AN: Shouldn't really start a new story, but I'm temporarily out of commission for my other stories, and quite busy (final year in college), so this is just on a whim.

Disclaimer: Don't own PoT.

Prologue:

The first time the game ended seven games to six, Echizen Nanjiro was caught between pride that his son, his protégé, had beaten him, and feeling disbelief, that his _not-even-ten-year-old_ son had done so. He was almost convinced that it was a fluke or a lucky break, if the next game had not ended six games to five. When their third game ended six games to four, in Ryoma's favor, he was fully convinced that Ryoma had far exceeded his expectations and his determination grew to find his ten-year-old son a worthy opponent.

For that reason, the family of three, Echizen Nanjiro, Echizen Rinko, and their prodigious son, Echizen Ryoma, left their idyllic countryside home with orange orchard attached and went to New York City. There, Ryoma was entered into various competitions, and initially, because he had never really played anyone besides Nanjiro, Ryoma was excited to find what could possibly be a new opponent; he thought his dad was just weak. However, as he won championship trophies, one after another, his excitement for competing in tennis dulled, until eventually Ryoma simply played in competitions because his parents asked him to. The only interest he had in tennis left lay in brainstorming new skills, and extending his own boundaries.

Nanjiro and Rinko, more Nanjiro really, grew increasingly concerned about the lack of interest that could be seen in Ryoma's competitive tennis, until Nanjiro came up with a wonderful idea. He will send Ryoma to Japan, so the one person who taught Nanjiro about the fun in playing tennis competitively, Ryuzaki Sumire, could hopefully bring Ryoma back into the competitive tennis scene.

Please review. I will be continuing this story based on the reviews I get, so if you want this story to continue, please add comments.

I also welcome any suggestions of the skills that Ryoma will be creating.

Thanks.


	2. Chapter 2: Welcome to Japan

Disclaimer: Don't own PoT.

Chapter 1: Welcome to Japan

Whipping off his signature FILA cap in the almost excruciating heat of a Japanese summer, Ryoma sighed. He had no idea what was going on in the head of his _baka oyaji_ (Trans: stupid old man), well, aside from the many swimsuit models that frolic through his favored reading material. Aside from that, Ryoma was completely clueless about the workings of the mind of Echizen Nanjiro.

Whatever could have compelled his old man to send him to Japan, of all places?

People who did not know Ryoma personally would have been appalled and frowned upon the action of a seemingly neglectful father, sending a twelve-year-old boy to a far off, foreign country. But Ryoma was not any mere twelve-year-old boy. He was very much independent, almost frighteningly so, and could very well take care of himself, even without the aid of his parents, or perhaps _with_ the aid of Nanjiro, especially.

Since childhood, Ryoma had to learn how to take care of himself. Nanjiro was at the best of times, spectacularly lazy and when he does lift a hand to do any household chore, he would inevitably mess up. His attempt into the kitchen when Ryoma was seven caused a passing hiker to call the closest fire station in alarm. Nanjiro tried doing laundry once and they had to vacate the house for a whole twenty four hours, as the professional janitorial team they called in cleaned up the house and there was water damage to _everything._ Even mopping the floor caused Nanjiro to break his leg doing so, though he would later claim it was all worth it, since the nurse attending him looked like a twin to his favorite model, although he was careful to say this out of earshot of Rinko.

Rinko was as efficient at household chores as Nanjiro sucked at it. Unfortunately, she did not have the time or the energy to do household chores, since she was usually incessantly busy with her work at the law firｍ, and more often than not, would leave the house before seven in the morning and reach home well after Ryoma's gone to bed. To avoid another repeat of Nanjiro's disastrous attempts to do simple household chores, she had no choice but to teach Ryoma how to take care of himself and the house. Hence, from early childhood, Ryoma was taught how to cook, clean and make sure the house was still standing when Rinko came home, so both his parents were remarkably unworried that he would be able to take care of himself, even alone in Japan.

Ryoma took one look at the long queue for taxis in front of the airport's entrance and dropped his backpack onto the linoleum floor of the airport lobby. He quickly unzipped the bag and removed his trusty skateboard with a monogrammed _PRINCE_ on it and holding the board under his arm, made his way to the main highway outside the airport. Once he reached the crossroads, taking a look at the closest street sign, and keeping in mind the address his father had drummed into his head, he placed one sneakered foot onto the board and leisurely skateboarded down the right street.

Ryoma glanced apathetically at the passing sights as he went on his way. His uniquely golden eyes took in a couple of cafes, a fast food joint at the corner, a bookshop and several other miscellaneous stores which he ignored, although that sports equipment shop right next to the convenience store did momentarily capture his interest.

He swerved suddenly, his attention back online, instinctually picking up on someone barreling towards him, and narrowly missed the person. He stopped his rolling skateboard, stepping on one end of the skateboard so the board stuck straight up, his hand automatically catching the other end, and turned swiftly around to see who the _idiot_ was that nearly careened into him.

All he saw was a redhead with her absurdly long hair braided into two plaits that trailed behind her, as she quickly bowed with a hurried apology before she chanced to take a look at her watch and rushed off again. As Ryoma watched her rapidly disappearing form that was going off in such a rush with the same apathy that he watched the streets with, his only thought was, _'Weird.'_

***APATHY***

Running a towel peremptorily through his now wet hair, Ryoma frowned at the apartment that his parents had acquired for him. It was – one word, LARGE. It was rather more of a double-story house disguised in realty advertisements as an apartment than an apartment, really. There were two stories, excluding the small half-story loft that Ryoma had claimed as his bedroom. There was a fully furnished kitchen, living room, dining room and personal gym with a common bathroom on the first level, while the second level boasted what looked like a study and library all in one room and three other guest rooms with two bathrooms at either ends of the hallway that connected them all together, while his own claimed bedroom had a personal bathroom attached. All of which were fully furnished, of course.

Ryoma didn't think how great it was to be completely independent from his parents, or languish in the joy of having all this space, sharing with no one else. All he could think was what a _bitch_ it was going to be to clean this place.

At this thought, he sighed. He wasn't sure of it before, but he _knew_ now that his parents were punishing him for something. Tightening the drawstring on the pair of pajama pants that currently enclosed the lower half of his body, he was just about to turn right around and head off to bed, before he heard the characteristic _ding-dong_ from the slightly ajar door of his study slash library. Someone was trying to contact him through the webcam.

Most likely it was his mother. His _baka oyaji_ didn't even know how to use a word processor, after all.

"Hello, _kaa-san_." Ryoma greeted as the image of a woman with dark red hair put up in an elegant coiffure filled his desktop screen.

"Hello, Ryoma. How are things over there?" Rinko smiled at her prodigious son, who happened to be halfway across the world from her at the moment.

"It's okay. I managed to find the apartment and, speaking of that, why on earth did you and the _baka oyaji_ get me a _house_? How am I supposed to clean this place all by myself?" Ryoma exclaimed indignantly.

"Of course we don't expect you to clean your _apartment_ by yourself! Your apartment building has a hired maid service! Didn't Nanjiro pass you the brochure for the place you're staying at?"

"I saw no such thing," Ryoma deadpanned flatly. The only thing that his father had passed to him with regards to his new residence was a ripped Post-it note with ash residues on it, which had the address of the apartment building and the apartment number scrawled on it in his father's signature chicken scratch.

"Oh, he must have forgotten, then. That's just so typical of him," Rinko sighed in exasperation. "Anyways, your apartment building does have a hired maid service, although they are only responsible for cleaning the common areas like your living room, kitchen, dining room and the common bathrooms. Your personal bedroom and bathroom is under your responsibility, and you have to cook your own meals."

"Okay," Ryoma shrugged nonchalantly. It was not that much different from what he did back in America after all.

"Oh, but Nanako-chan might come and visit, though not often, I'm afraid. She told me just a few days ago how busy she was with college." Here, Rinko scrunched up her eyebrows, most likely remembering her own nightmarish days in college followed by law school.

Meino Nanako was Ryoma's much older cousin on his maternal side. She was currently in her last year in Tokyo University. It had been some years since Ryoma had last seen her, so the two weren't particularly close though they weren't distant with each other either, especially since Ryoma recalled quite distinctly that Nanako-san always tried to baby him the few times the two cousins had actually met.

"Oh, by the way, are you settling in all right? Not missing us, are you?" Rinko grinned cheekily at the adorable scowl coloring her only son's face.

Ryoma was about to make a sharp retort that he was absolutely, in no uncertain terms, not missing any one of them when his father's voice shouted from the background, "The only one the _seishonen_ is missing is the damn cat!"

And it was true. Ryoma did miss his beloved Himalayan cat, Karupin, very much, although it had hardly been more than a few hours that they were apart. Unfortunately, Karupiin was scheduled for the much despised veterinarian's for a proper full body check-up before he could be cleared by immigration to come over to Japan. At the earliest, Ryoma could only expect Karupin the next time one or both of his parents came to visit, or if he himself went back to fetch her, whichever came first, and it really was wearing on Ryoma to be so far away from his adorable feline. What do you expect? After all, Ryoma had practically raised her himself from kitten-hood.

"I'm fine," Ryoma mumbled almost inaudibly, and it was due to Rinko's own fluency in Ryoma-speak that she understood what he said and what he _didn't_ say. Putting all teasing aside, Rinko offered a sympathetic smile, knowing that the distance between Ryoma and Karupin, unavoidable as it was, was taxing.

"Don't worry, Ryoma. After the vet's cleared her, Karupin will be with you before you even know it. In the meantime, we'll take good care of her," Rinko reassured her son. "By the way, how are you coping with Japan? Do you remember how to get to Seigaku?"

"_Kaa-san_, I've only been in Japan for-" here, Ryoma glanced at the digital time displayed on the lower right corner of the screen, "-seven hours, fifty-two minutes and thirty-three seconds. I haven't had much time to cope with anything yet. And I don't officially begin school until next Monday, which is three days from now. I'm sure that if I don't remember, I have sufficient time to refresh my memory."

"I'm just worried, Ryoma," Rinko sighed ruefully. "After all, Japan is a completely different country halfway across the world, with a completely different language, economy – a completely different everything! I know you're very independent and can take care of yourself, but still…"

Rinko was suddenly interrupted by her errant husband, who impertinently leaned over his wife's shoulder, so that he too could see Ryoma. "Hey, _seishonen_. You are going to join the Seigaku Tennis Club and become a regular," he declared, ignoring Rinko's exasperated "Nanjiro!", and her futile attempts to reclaim central focus of the video call.

"Why on earth would I want to do that?" Ryoma asked tonelessly, one raised eyebrow accompanying his question.

"Ryoma," Nanjiro said, surprisingly seriously, "you're good at tennis, no one can deny that. But your tennis is _dead_, or at the very least, _with a terminal illness_. You've lost the passion for playing in competitions and playing against worthy opponents, and half of the fun in tennis is lost to you."

"_Oyaji_, _I _haven't lost anything. Playing in competitions? Been there, done that. And worthy opponents? I haven't found one. Moreover, tennis isn't all about playing competitively. I've just involved myself in a different facet of tennis – creating new skills and techniques."

"_Seishonen_, Seigaku is where I learned all my stuff. It will bring back the passion for playing tennis competitively in you."

"This coming from the guy I've defeated thirty-nine matches and counting?" Ryoma scoffed. "I'm not impressed."

You could almost see the melodramatic anime-style arrow impaling into Nanjiro, as he sulkily skulked off the screen's view, presumably to pout in a corner.

"What your father says isn't altogether a bad idea, Ryoma. Won't you consider it, at least?" Rinko beseeched kindly. Ryoma couldn't slap a cold, fat "NO" at the question as he had done to his father. He had never been able to successfully reject the pleading expression on his mother's face, whose presence in his life could be said to be equal to Karupin's, although he would never admit that to anyone.

"I'll think about it," Ryoma conceded finally. "But if they prove to be not up to standards, we'll never speak of this again. Agreed?"

Rinko nodded happily. This was far from a yes, but much better that a no. She glanced at her watch, and exclaimed in surprise, "Oh! Ryoma! I didn't realize it was so late! We'll end the call now, all right? After all, a growing boy needs his sleep."

As the screen blinked a few times before going dark completely, Ryoma leaned back in his swivel chair and pondered the promise he'd made to his mother. He couldn't and wouldn't ignore any promise he made to his mother, unlike one made to his _baka oyaji_, but that didn't mean he didn't regret making the promise. He just felt so tired as he recalled the disappointment that he experienced after each match in America, as his opponents all proved to be much, _much _weaker than his father and consequently, weaker than him. He'd been so happy when he entered his first official competition in New York, expecting to find players who could challenge him and prove to be a good match, but as opponent following opponent was defeated with almost little to no exertion of effort on his part, he grew increasingly disillusioned in the world of competitive tennis. Holding this trophy or that medal at the awards ceremony became almost routine to him, and instead of the elation experienced by the victor, he only felt emptiness and disappointment almost overwhelm him. Eventually, he gave up completely, believing there was no true opponent for him, and left competitive tennis for brainstorming and creating endless techniques and skills that would probably never see the tennis court. Was he unfulfilled? Yes. But did he want to go back to the disappointment of playing without aim or purpose, with almost no effort? No. He couldn't take the disappointment again.

***APATHY***

Pleas review.


	3. Chapter 3

_ ~DING DONG~_

A muffled groan came from the bundle of black silk blankets that currently lay in place on the king-sized bed. A comparatively tiny figure reluctantly withdrew from his comfortable silk cocoon as the doorbell rang again. _Who's here at,_ Ryoma glanced at the digital alarm clock on his bedside table, _9.33 am on a Friday morning?_

The doorbell rang again and Ryoma sighed petulantly before struggling out of his comfortable prison. He stumbled, not entirely awake, to the front door of his apartment, peered into the peephole and sighed in mild irritation before opening his door to admit a raven-haired whirlwind into his residence.

"Welcome to Japan, Ryoma-kun. Oh, and good morning, too," one Meino Nanako, the aforementioned raven-haired force of nature, greeted cheerfully, hugging Ryoma in a way that caused his face to become dangerously close to her… _ahem_, assets. Of course, neither cousin paid too much attention to this – Ryoma had yet to approach puberty, and Nanako obviously could not see her adorable cousin as a male threat. Ryoma pushed her away petulantly and frowned before he couldn't resist a yawn, which broke his mask of irritation.

"What are… you doing here, Nanako-san? I thought… you were busy with uni-university?" Ryoma yawned, slumping onto one of the bar stools that adorned the kitchen island, watching with half-lidded eyes as Nanako made herself comfortable with all the amenities and delights of his kitchen.

"I only have to go in this afternoon, Ryoma-kun," she explained with a smile, already pouring pancake batter into a skillet, "so I thought I'd come and welcome my favourite cousin beforehand."

Ryoma frowned again as he watched his cousin set a stack of pancakes in front of him, along with a glass of juice. She couldn't possibly be expecting him to finish the stack of pancakes. Now that he was slightly more awake, he couldn't help wondering where the ingredients Nanako had used to produce the relatively big breakfast came from. Last he checked, the fridge was empty and he had actually been planning on grocery shopping sometime today. _She must have brought some necessaries with her_, he concluded, quite accurately.

"I'm so glad you're here, Ryoma-kun. I've barely gotten to see you since the last time I went to America. How have Ojii-sama and Obaa-sama been? Are they doing well?"

"They're okay," Ryoma acquiesced, resigned to at least eat part of the breakfast that had been prepared. Really, it was huge, compared to his preferred Japanese-style breakfast, though Ryoma politely refrained from making any comment. Nanako-san, from what he remembered of her, was too much like his mother in the manner that both women could and would often get him to do things that he might have refused if the request came from anyone else.

Completely used to her younger cousin's taciturn nature, Nanako took the lacking in detail reply in stride and kept chatting cheerily about a variety of things, ranging from the weather in Tokyo at this time of year to her own university classes to how she missed the Echizens' beautiful orange orchard in America, and concluded her visit with a promise to visit again soon. All the while, Ryoma steadily demolished the stack of pancakes and listened to her bubbly chatter with half an ear.

As soon as the door closed behind Nanako, Ryoma sighed in relief. He liked his cousin, surprisingly because he liked few people or cared enough to remember their names, but she was a little like an extra-sweet hot chocolate, sweet and warm, but only recommended in small, occasional doses. Ryoma wiped the last vestiges of sleep from his face as he washed up and got dressed for a day, or at least half a day, seeing as it was already 1.46 pm, according to his watch, of exploring the immediate neighbourhood.

***APATHY***

"Back here again, Eiji-chan?"

"Yup, Ossan! I just couldn't help coming back!" Kikumaru Eiji smiled in greeting at the elderly owner of the pet shop he frequented. Despite already owning a dog and a parakeet, Eiji just couldn't resist stopping by the pet shop whenever he got the chance to. It was the like the place was an Eiji-magnet and Eiji loved coming back again and again to watch the colourful tropical fishes that swam in the many aquariums that lined the back shelves. He'd been here so many times that the old shopkeeper already knew him quite well and often invited him to stay for tea.

However, today was slightly different. Eiji's sensitive ears caught the tinkling of the bell hanging above the shop door and he turned to look curiously at who had entered the barely known pet shop. The potential customer appeared to be a young boy, probably somewhere between ten or eleven years old, if his height, or lack thereof, was any evidence. He was dressed in a casual, graffiti T-shirt paired with a pair of sports shorts, and what looked to be the top of a black skateboard in his backpack. Eiji couldn't really make out his features as a sports cap hid most of his face, but he knew one thing and that was the boy was not someone from the neighbourhood. What little the cap couldn't hide was the dark emerald-tinted hair that peeked out from under the boy's cap, and Eiji knew no one had such unique-coloured hair in their neighbourhood.

"Well, hello there, boya. Never seen you around here before. Are you looking for a particular animal?" the shopkeeper smiled warmly.

The boy shrugged his slender shoulders and mumbled quietly, "Just browsing." And just like that, there seemed to be an unapproachable aura around the boy, and the old man cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"All right, then. Just call if you need anything." The shopkeeper returned to his newspaper, although Eiji could tell that most of the old man's attention was still focused on the curious newcomer. Said newcomer glanced around the shop, before heading towards the section with cats, and Eiji shrugged mentally before turning his attention back to the hidden beauties of the underwater world.

***APATHY***

Ryoma had spent around ten minutes wandering around the neighbourhood and trying to familiarize himself with the streets closest to his apartment building. His interest was momentarily captured by a pet shop he spotted around one corner. It was tucked away in an alley, and was hardly noticeable. It seemed his feet had a mind of their own and led him into the shop. After having a slightly awkward greeting with the shopkeeper, he made his way to the glass containers that contained the cats, ignoring the other animals entirely.

The shop was remarkably well-stocked for such a small place, and there was quite a large variety of cats on display, of different ages and different breeds. He spotted a sleek white cat preening in her cage while a rambunctious spotted kitten played with a toy mouse in another, but his attention was mostly focused on a beautiful male cat with completely black fur, except for a white spot on its right eye. The cat had sharp blue eyes that resembled his beloved Karupin's own, and Ryoma was tempted to purchase the cat as a candidate for mate for Karupin, before he reconsidered. It was pointless to consider such things when the 'bride' was stuck halfway around the world. Perhaps he would come back with Karupin in the future and see if the two cats were compatible.

Withholding a sigh that bespoke of how desperately he missed the beautiful Himalayan cat that had been his since she was a kitten, he offered a slight bow of farewell to the elderly shopkeeper before leaving. He never noticed that there had been another boy at the back shelves whose attention had been divided between admiring the beautiful exotic fishes and watching the strange boy with the FILA cap.

***APATHY***

"Irasshaimase," a boy with rather spiky brown hair and a shy smile greeted as Ryoma walked into the sushi place he'd luckily spotted a small distance away from the pet store. Ryoma wasn't overly particular or picky about his food, but he had to admit that he did have a preference for traditional Japanese food and surprisingly, did not much like the Western fare he was accustomed to back in California. Ryoma would never admit it, but he'd wanted to try the _authentic_ Japanese cuisine ever since he'd landed yesterday. Since airport fare was notoriously horrible in taste, he'd declined to try the sushi on-flight menu, and instead settled for a burger. Moreover, the place he'd entered right now looked as authentic as they came.

"How many seats?" the waiter, the same teenaged boy who'd greeted him at the traditional sliding door entrance, asked politely.

"One."

"This way, please," the boy gave the same service smile and gestured for Ryoma to take a place at the counter. Ryoma was inwardly glad that he did not have to especially request for a seat at the counter, which he would have, because he had wanted to see up close and personal how the Japanese chef prepared the sushi, and noted unconcernedly that the chef had similar facial features with the waiter – most likely father and son, by the looks of it.

Ryoma slid into one of the stools and looked up into the kindly face of the chef across the counter. "What would you like, okyaku-sama?" the chef smiled, handing over the menu. Ryoma perused the menu slowly before coming to a decision. In the meantime, the waiter had placed a cup of what Ryoma assumed was traditional Japanese green tea in front of him.

"I'll have an order of _edamame_, and _katsu donburi_, and an order of _toro sashimi_."

"Coming right up!"

***APATHY***

Kawamura Takashi watched the boy who looked to be a stranger in their neighbourhood, from what he could guess, even as his hands automatically gathered the dirty dishes from one of the tables and repeated the service farewell to a couple of their regular customers. His curiosity was excusable because it made an odd sight that a boy at such a young age would be alone having lunch in a sushi place instead of the often teenager-preferred lunch of fast food and soda. Moreover, their usual customers were usually nearby office workers on their lunch break or whole families who had taken a day off to enjoy some family bonding time, so the lone boy sitting at the counter enjoying a traditional Japanese lunch made for a very odd sight, indeed.

***APATHY***

Ryoma glanced at his watch which read 3.19 pm. After the rather delicious lunch he'd had earlier, which he'd paid for with a platinum credit card, due to his current lack of Japanese currency at the moment, Ryoma had decided to immediately resolve the problem by heading to the nearest bank, which he'd gotten the location of from the friendly waiter. It was amusing, though, when the chef and presumably his son, the waiter, dropped their jaws when he paid his bill with a platinum credit card. It seems like most kids here in Japan rarely carried around credit cards in their wallets. Of course, his was a supplementary card provided by his mother, but still…

Upon arriving at the bank, Ryoma had frowned, seeing the queue at the counter. It wasn't a very long queue and he did have time to spare, but he still couldn't help feeling mildly irritated. It was the principle of the thing, after all. Right in front of him stood a young man and a boy who might have been brothers, except for the fact that they looked distinctly dissimilar. The boy was black-haired with a… _curious _hairstyle, although he did have an open, welcoming smile and warm brown eyes, whereas his companion, the young man, had wavy brown hair and a stern, serious gaze behind oval spectacles. The young man was obviously a no-nonsense, straitlaced character.

Anyways, it was none of his business.

***APATHY***

Oishii Shuiichiro, the aforementioned raven, as vice-captain of the Seigaku Boys' Tennis Club had deigned to accompany his close friend, one Tezuka Kunimitsu, the captain of said club, to bank in the relegated amount of money for club funds for the semester. Oishii had always been amazed at the admirable ability of Tezuka to multi-task so efficiently. Tezuka was not only captain of the boys' tennis club, leading a group of rowdy, impulsive teenaged boys, he also happened to be the Student Council President, with himself as Treasurer. Aside from that, Tezuka remarkably remained able to stay top of his year and although Oishii knew his own grades were nothing to scoff at, he was distinctly aware that he lacked the perfectionist temperament of his serious friend.

If there was anything to complain about Tezuka Kunimitsu, it was the fact that he was too serious and too stubborn if his left arm was any indication. Shuichiro often couldn't help but sign inwardly whenever his thoughts veered towards the injured arm of his captain. He knew the injury was through no fault of Tezuka's, but did he have to be so stubborn about it?

As his thoughts became increasingly frustrated, Oishii desperately looked around for anything to take his mind off it. It was at that moment that he caught sight of the young boy who was waiting in the queue right behind them. In spite of the fact that they were living in Tokyo, their immediate neighbourhood was rather small and close-knit, so a new face was immediately noticeable. Moreover, such a young boy would hardly be caught dead in a bank, of all places.

He refrained from making any comment, though, for politeness's sake, since the person that had captured his curiosity was still within earshot. Finally, he could no longer hold his silence and as soon as they were a ways from the bank, Oishii broke his silence.

"Have you ever seen that boy around here before, Tezuka?"

He was only spared an impassive glance from behind oval lenses, and an equally toneless, "No,". Apparently that meant the end of discussion.

After all, Tezuka never was one to indulge in curiosity for curiosity's sake.

***APATHY***

"Aah, Momo-chan sempai, thanks a lot for buying us burgers today."

A spiky-haired guy by the name of Momoshiro Takeshi grinned at the three obviously younger boys, with the difference in height, around him. The one with short brown hair spiked up in one direction, Horio Satoshi, the shorter one with black hair that was cut with even black bangs that ended just above his eyebrows, Kato Kachiro, and the speaker, the relatively taller first-year, Katsuo Mizuno, made up the Freshman Trio of Seishun Gakuen. They were among the newest batch of members of the Boys' Tennis Club, having joined just right after the day of the Entrance Ceremony.

"You guys don't have to be so grateful. It's just burgers, and it's a sempai's duty to look after his cute kouhai!" Momoshiro laughed it off, as they waited in line at the counter.

Momoshiro had inadvertently taken the three first-years under his wing, when he had heroically saved them from the wiles of one of the many non-regular second years in the club, Arai and his cronies, who had rigged a game that tested tennis skill and aim so that they would lose no matter what. Of course, they didn't expect Momoshiro to show up and 'save the day', so to speak, seeing as how the regulars were off in a friendly match with a school from a neighbouring district. It was relatively easy for Momoshiro to scare Arai and his little friends off after the debacle. After all, _he_ was one of the only two second years to make a regular spot.

Thoughts of the _other_ second year who'd made the cut made his face darken and he scowled unconsciously, obviously scaring the first years, because the next second, Katou hesitantly asked, "Um, are you all right, Momo-chan sempai?"

"Eh… of course, I'm all right. Just thought of something particularly _unpleasant_. Anyways, it's a hundred years too early for you to be worrying about me!" Momoshiro laughingly grabbed the first year who was unlucky enough to be the one nearest him, Horio, in a playful strangle-hold. The extremely talkative first year immediately started choking dramatically, although Momoshiro was far from falling for the obvious ruse.

The Freshman Trio was a cheerful bunch, certainly, and their enthusiasm and passion for tennis endeared them to him. Unfortunately, to tell the truth, none of them were particularly skilled in the sport they were so fervently pursuing. Of course, Momoshiro knew it was folly to expect too much out of first year students who had hardly been in the club for more than a few weeks, but there was a definite skill vacuum in the first year ranks, not just among the Freshman Trio. The second years were slightly better with their extra year of experience, but the best among them happened to be Arai and his pals, and still, there was an obvious rift of skill between the best non-regular and a regular. At the moment, all eight regular spots were filled, with two pairs of doubles players, three singles player and a substitute. There was no fall back option, and it significantly narrowed down the prospects of the regulars. Momoshiro knew that their female tennis coach, Ryuuzaki Sumire-sensei, or nicknamed Baa-chan by yours truly, was actually quite worried about the issue.

Last he heard, she had been expecting more skill from the first years, such as is the case with himself and _the bastard_ when they had been first years, and when the third-year regulars had been in their freshman year. The new batch, unfortunately, had yet to reveal any hidden talent and it was quickly becoming worrisome, especially since the majority of the current regulars were made up of third years who would graduate at the end of the year.

"The total will be 3,240 yen, okyaku-sama."

Momoshiro forked over the money as his three younger companions claimed their own individual trays, leaving him to take his own, which also happened to be the one with the extra large burger and jumbo order fries. The foursome looked around for a free table, but apparently they were not the only ones who had the bright idea to eat at this particular fast food place, and all of the tables were occupied.

Looks like they'd have to share with someone. Unfortunately, most of the tables either had entire families sitting at them, or lovey dovey couples, or high school girls playing hooky from their extracurricular activities. None of them were really favourable company for a meal for four middle school boys, and Momoshiro was just considering turning back towards the counter to have their dine-in orders changed to take-out, when Horio shouted in excitement.

"Momo-chan sempai! I think we can share with him!" Horio exclaimed, gesturing at one of the tables – this one only having a kid sitting there, munching disinterestedly on a couple of fries as his fingers skimmed the screen of an expensive-looking IPad.

***APATHY***

Ryoma barely held in a groan when he heard the brown-haired loudmouth's exclamation. As the foursome headed in his direction, he was considering just leaving his half-finished meal and leaving, when the tallest flashed a friendly grin at him.

"Sorry, mind if we share the table with you?"

Ryoma had never shared a table with anyone besides his family in his life, and especially not four complete strangers. He would be the first to admit that he lived a lonely life, but what people don't get is he _liked _the solo lifestyle. When he had been in America, there were of course, the dinners that the sponsors of this or that tennis tournament hosted in his honor when attendance was mandatory, according to his mom, but outside of these, he had only ever eaten with his parents, his adopted free-spirited older brother, Echizen Ryoga, who was as much a mother hen as Nanako was sometimes, and the very rare family reunion dinners that he was also compelled to attend once or twice each year.

He had literally no one in his age range that he was particularly close to in America, despite having grown up there. Even in schools, while Ryoma, due to his attractive Asian features and natural charisma, had drawn his fellow schoolmates, mostly girls, like moths to a flame, they usually backed off soon enough after encountering a sharp, silent golden-eyed stare. As much as they were drawn to him, Ryoma himself gave off an unapproachable aura that seemed to warn them from getting closer.

He realized his thoughts were going off tangent and the taller boy was still waiting for an answer. Ryoma shrugged nonchalantly – the universal sign for _whatever_.

***APATHY***

The table lapsed into a momentary uncomfortable silence, before Horio obviously couldn't take it anymore and started babbling about one thing or another to the rather lackluster answers of the other two parts of the Freshman Trio. Meanwhile, Momoshiro, under the pretext of munching his burger, observed their unexpected meal companion.

The boy remained silent throughout Horio's monologue. He did not say a word – neither to introduce himself nor ask the foursome who had intruded upon his private table to give him peace from their chatter. He just kept on eating silently, and when he was done, bundled up the paper wrapping of his burger and tossed it nonchalantly on the tray before switching off his IPad to standby mode. He got up and left quietly, without a word to any of his unanticipated companions.

***APATHY***

The effeminate-looking boy sighed as he slowly flipped his mobile phone closed.

The boy's name was Fuji Shuusuke. With brown hair and an eternally warm, smiling face, along with his kind demeanor, Fuji had no lack of admirers, of either gender. He was popular and he knew it for a fact. Fuji had also been blessed with adequate intelligence so his grades were always something to be proud of. Moreover, he had been named as the Genius of Seishun Gakuen, and had been a regular since he was a second-year. Fuji was the most approachable sempai in the ranks of the regulars, because he always had a kind word for most everyone and hardly anything ever seemed to touch his unflappable mask.

Those who were envious of him – whether of Fuji's talent in tennis, his looks or his well-rounded academic performance, maintained without him having made any visible effort – all said that Fuji Shuusuke had the perfect life. He was born prodigious and handsome, to boot, he had it all, or so they said.

_It is ironic_, Fuji thought, softly laughing as a bitter smile twisted his smooth features into a grimace, _that all of them work so hard for what comes naturally to me, while I work so hard for what they have always had_.

Fuji's only issue of concern in his life was his younger brother, Fuji Yuuta. Whereas those who were jealous of him envied him his many apparently prodigious talents, Fuji envied them their whole, happy families. Yuuta was the one person most precious to him in his life, and he'd always been Yuuta's protector even since they were little kids. He had never expected that Yuuta would develop an inferiority complex due to his reputation as a genius. And to think that Fuji had been so happy when Yuuta transferred to the same middle school he was studying in, only to give up to the peer pressure of being constantly compared to his genius brother, and compelled to transfer to St Rudolph's, a school some distance away from their district. The Fuji brothers, who had been so close since they were little kids, suddenly felt what seemed to be an impenetrable wall rising up between them.

Fuji knew that Yuuta, in his heart of hearts, realized that being born as a genius was no fault of his brother's, but he just couldn't take the peer pressure or the constantly assessing eyes of those around him, that saw him as a second-rate player next to his genius brother, and so, tried to escape the judgmental eyes of those around them. Unfortunately, Yuuta, in his ardent efforts to escape his brother's overwhelming reputation as a prodigy, had also soured the brotherly relationship he had with his brother.

Yuuta had once again refused to reconsider his transfer to St Rudolph's. A truly eerie smile crossed his lips as he thought of how he would make the _bastard_ who tempted his brother away from his side suffer all the furies of Hell, once he found him. Yuuta had been most reluctant to reveal the intimate details, like his name, his address, his phone number, etc., you know, all the necessary information, so that Fuji could tort – ahem, _greet_ him.

In the well-equipped gym of St Rudolph's, the black haired manager of St Rudolph's Boys' Tennis Club felt a cold shiver run down his spine – almost as if someone had just danced upon his grave.

One Fuji Shuusuke was reluctantly drawn away from his cheerful contemplation of the delightful murder of a boy his own age by childish shouts of awe and excitement. _Hmm, that's odd. It's only just past six. It's too late for park-goers and too early for the punk gangs. Who would be here, aside from me? _Fuji mused silently. The park he was in was quite secluded and known to just a few – usually those romantic lovey dovey couples who wanted to have disgusting PDAs right in the middle of the day, family groups whose grandparents grew up in the vicinity, knew about the park and were looking for a nice day out, or punk groups who were looking for some place quiet for a smoke or illegal gambling.

Curiously, Fuji made his way towards the park's square, with his hearing as his guide.

"Ne, niisan! Can you go up on that bench again?" came the overly exuberant voice of one particularly persistent little girl, whose parents had apparently long given up on dragging their daughter home. The little girl's loud voice was soon drowned out by an accompanying throng of childish voices, whose owners all surrounded a comparatively taller boy. The boy had a signature FILA cap on that was pulled down low and, whether intentionally or otherwise, hid most of his facial features. All Fuji could discern was the quirk of a smirk and uniquely dark emerald-tinted hair that peeked out from under the cap.

His interesting subject didn't say anything about agreeing or denying the little girl's request. Instead, he simply pushed off, one sneakered foot on his skateboard and the other pushing to allow him to gain momentum and speed. The boy sped towards one of the few park benches there and suddenly, without any prior warning, flew through the air, one hand securing his skateboard to his feet. The skateboard landed wheelfirst on the backrest of the wooden bench, running across it in perfect balance, the boy still standing perfectly on his skateboard. Just as the skateboard reached the other end of the backrest, the boy gave a leap and caught his flying skateboard in one hand whilst still in midair, before landing perfectly steady on his two feet, without any stumbling at all.

_Impressive, very impressive,_ Fuji mused. He didn't recognize the boy and unless he had been hiding under a rock all the while, Fuji would have heard of such a boy, with such impressive skateboarding skills. Of course, skateboarding was not his cup of tea, but such an awe-inspiring performance should have gained some notice. They were after all not in the heart of Tokyo, but merely a small suburban neighbourhood. Therefore, Fuji came to the accurate conclusion that the boy was a new face in town.

He watched as the boy, amidst the excited applause of the kids, raised his hand and instantly, every child, boy or girl, quieted. Fuji had only ever seen such a presence and charisma in only one other person – his club captain, Tezuka Kunimitsu. The mysterious boy gestured towards the waiting parents and guardians, and almost like following the hypnotic suggestions of the Pied Piper, the children reluctantly gravitated towards their respective parents, who nodded their thanks at the boy. As the regular park-goers moved off out of sight and earshot, Fuji approached the newest enigma in town.

"That was very impressive, _boya_," Fuji smiled.

For the first time, the boy raised his face and Fuji caught sight of a pair of cat-like, almond-shaped golden eyes. It was an amazing color, bringing to mind the image of liquid gold – precious, fluid yet strong. For a boy quite a bit shorter than himself, the boy had a very intimidating presence and aura. His sharp eyes were laid in a face of delicate, almost doll-like proportions, with a smooth, flawlessly porcelain complexion.

The boy quirked his lips in what might have been an attempt at a smile or a smirk, Fuji couldn't really tell. He gave a slight nod of acknowledgement to Fuji's words of praise without any verbal response, before he simply turned around and proceeded to walk away.

_Hmm… very interesting…_

__***APATHY***

Ryoma had never been able to resist the dreaded puppy-dog eyes, given that his own mother wielded the terrifying skill with impressive expertise. So when surrounded by almost a dozen of impressionable kids utilizing the same skill, he found it difficult to resist their requests of seeing his skateboarding skills.

Completing his trick to thunderous applause caused by juvenile hands, Ryoma expressionlessly waved the kids off to their waiting parents, who seemed relieved that they could now take their little ones home. Ryoma watched as some of the more outgoing kids waved farewell to him enthusiastically while other, shyer, kids simply ducked behind their parents now that the excitement was over and smiled shyly back at him. It was amazing the way they didn't seem to mind his lack of expression or words, as compared to his schoolmates who were always eventually put off by his lacking social skills. They were like a breath of fresh air with the manner in which they welcomed him into their midst without any ulterior motives unless it was to see his impressive skateboarding, their childish and simple desires were understandable and pure, with little or no calculation.

Ryoma picked up his skateboard and was about to walk back to where he had left his backpack on one of the benches, when a voice suddenly interrupted his inner contemplation.

"That was very impressive, _boya_."

He looked up to see a teenaged boy that looked to be about one or two years older than him. At least Ryoma thought he was a boy. He was rather effeminate-looking, after all, and ah… there it was – his Adam's apple. The boy had brown hair that fell in even bangs and a rare face that straddled the border between beautiful and handsome, with what looked to be perpetually closed eyes and a serene smile.

Ryoma's lips twitched. He was undecided whether to smile politely as his mother taught him when praised, or to smirk in cockiness as his father had drilled into him, so in the end, settled for a quirk of the lips as a compromise. He nodded back at the effeminate boy, whom, Ryoma had the feeling, was observing him as one would observe a science experiment, in spite of his closed eyes.

The other boy seemed to still be observing him and Ryoma's eye gave a twitch under his cap. It was kind of getting creepier by the second - the fact that Ryoma simply _knew _he was being observed when his observer appeared to have both eyes closed. Since the other boy didn't look to be about to say anything, Ryoma shrugged mentally and walked off to get his backpack, uncomfortably aware that the other boy was watching his receding back.

***APATHY***

"Now, then. Kaidoh-kun, get a few tomatoes, broccoli and artichokes, please."

Kaidoh Kaoru hissed a grumble before heading towards the vegetables section. He had no idea why he was doing this, barely repressing a shudder, thinking of what Inui-sempai would be making using tomato, broccoli, artichoke, honey, wasabi and who knows what other disgusting ingredient there was on the remarkably long list he was holding.

He had never imagined that _he_, _Kaidoh_ _Kaoru_, would be an accomplice in making Inui-sempai's diabolical, and most likely nuclear-reactive, inventions. Oh, if it weren't for the fact that he had unwittingly enlisted the dubious Inui Sadaharu-sempai's assistance in Chemistry, which he was scoring quite badly at, and, as a result, compelled to repay Inui-sempai by being a, most unwilling, accomplice in his experimental creations.

Well, at least Inui-sempai mercifully didn't ask him to be a guinea pig as repayment.

Thank God for small mercies.

Kaidoh dutifully filled the shopping basket with the items requested and was walking back when he saw a rather odd sight – it seemed a little kid was doing his grocery shopping as well, but what was really odd was he was in the section for rice, instead of the typical snacks and candies section. The kid had a sports cap on and was dressed simply, with a half-filled shopping basket beside his feet. Currently the kid had stretched his arm high up to reach the topmost bag of rice on an admittedly tall stack. Unfortunately, his fingers barely skimmed it. What really incensed Kaidoh was the fact that he could see one of the supermarket staffers, a teenager, probably a part-timer, was snickering openly at the kid's plight.

Kaidoh may not have a particularly pleasant-looking face, but he had never tolerated bullies, although he was usually the one mistaken as a bully.

He stalked towards the boy purposefully and effortlessly heaved the heavy bag of rice and laid it promptly in the boy's waiting shopping basket. Hearing a disappointed 'aww!' from behind him, and accurately discerning it was the unhelpful part-timer, Kaidoh turned around and glared threateningly at the guy, adding a spectacular hiss for good measure. Kaidoh had a fierce face when he was _not_ trying to be fierce, so when he _does _try… well, you get the idea. The guy predictably turned pale and rushed off somewhere, probably his instincts telling him that Kaidoh, in spite of being only thirteen years old was a predator.

Kaidoh turned back to look at the boy and to his surprise, a pair of golden cat-like eyes looked back at him. The boy gave a small nod of thanks. Kaidoh may have been offended if he hadn't thought the kid had mannerisms similar to his own stern club captain, and was likely as taciturn as Tezuka was. Especially since the kid had no expression on his face, aside from the unusually vibrant pair of golden eyes he had, eerily _just _like Tezuka-buchou.

"Ah, there you are, Kaidoh. I was just – oh, who might this be?"

Kaidoh turned to see Inui-sempai standing behind him, carrying his own shopping basket, which looked to be about to overflow, with all the miscellaneous food, or questionably food, items in it. Kaidoh suddenly felt a strong urge to tell the boy to run as fast and as far away as possible in a different direction, especially because he could hear the curious inflection in the senior's tone.

"Hmm… I've never seen you around before. Friend of yours, Kaidoh?"

"Fsshh… No. He couldn't get the topmost bag of rice," Kaidoh gestured at the bag of rice now sitting innocently on the linoleum floor, "I helped."

Let it never be said that Kaidoh Kaoru was not a succinct guy.

***APATHY***

They really were an odd duo – two teenage boys doing grocery shopping was a strange enough sight, but the two were so physically different. One was taller than average with short spiky hair and rectangular glasses, most likely an intellectual, whilst his companion was another guy who had tied a green bandanna around his head and a face that would not have looked out of place in a Japanese yakuza-gumi.

However, appearances could be deceiving, especially since the yakuza-looking guy had helped him out. But then that might mean the intellectual-looking, well-mannered companion beside him could be a dangerous character… Of course not, what was he thinking? (AN: Poor innocent Ryoma… to be unaware of the evils of Inui-sempai…)

Ryoma shrugged mentally, his outward expression betraying none of his less than complimentary thoughts about the unlikely duo. It was none of his business how they were like in character or anything else for that matter – he was unlikely to have to share close proximity with them in any case. After all, even if they all happened to end up in the same school, they didn't look anything like first-years to him, and Ryoma had yet to consider joining any extracurricular activities, aside from tennis, which is a _very vague_ consideration, as it was. He decided to no longer ponder on any of his thoughts and bent down to retrieve the bag of rice that the scary-looking but kind older boy had helped him take down. Thanks to his extensive training in tennis, Ryoma lifted the heavy bag of rice with hardly a twitch of an eyebrow, although the item was immediately removed from his hands by the bespectacled guy.

"Since Kaidoh has already deigned to help you, I'm sure he won't mind taking the bag to the cashier's counter as well. Right, Kaidoh-kun?" And without even a by your leave, he placed the rice into 'Kaidoh's' arms, and taking the previously named Kaidoh-kun's shopping basket, so that he now carried two, one in each hand. Ryoma gave a small nod of thanks for courtesy's sake and retrieved his own basket. Since they were going to help him, he was not going to be stupid enough to protest.

As the trio made their way towards the counter, the tall, bespectacled teenager – Inui Sadaharu, or so he introduced himself as – kept up a continuous, yet hopelessly one-sided conversation, interlaced with questions bordering on being nosy and cues intended to draw Ryoma into replying. However, Ryoma had fortunately grown up as a quiet child amongst adults who liked to talk (his parents and adoptive brother), and thus had the experience to fend off the inquisition with appropriately short answers that didn't invite any kind of further talk. Unfortunately, Inui-san seemed quite experienced at continuing to talk even if the other conversation partner was giving off an aura of inapproachability and the one-sided conversation continued until they reached the cashier's counter, Kaidoh-san following dutifully behind them.

"So, Ryoma-kun, do you need any help at your new home?" Inui-san smiled. It was the kind of smile that reminded Ryoma of big scary guys that enticed little kids with candy. Inui-san, with his persistence, had wrangled Ryoma's name from him, and assumed, correctly, that Ryoma had just moved into the neighbourhood. Ryoma was impressed against his will – he'd never met someone outside his own family with such persistence and who did not lose composure or patience with his lack of answers.

"No, thank you."

Inui-san seemed slightly disappointed at that answer, and Ryoma resisted the urge to smirk. In spite of Inui-san's endless persistence and superhuman patience, Ryoma had succeeded in subverting or outright ignoring some of the more probing questions about himself. He had not even given his full name, although that could be taken as a consequence of his originating from America where it was common to address one another by first names.

"Thank you for your help, Inui-san. Kaidoh-san," Ryoma bowed politely. He did not wait for any response and simply took his own groceries to head home. It was lucky that the two older boys had courteously allowed him to go first. Checking out at the cashier's would at least slow them down a bit and prevent Inui-san from tailing him for curiosity's sake, which, Ryoma belatedly realized, might not be so unlikely an idea after all.

***APATHY***

Kikumaru, Oishii, Kawamura, Tezuka, Fuji, Kaidoh, Inui, Momoshiro


	4. Chapter 4

***APATHY***

Ryoma glanced up at the school that he was going to spend at least the next three years in. Compared to some of the school buildings in America, it was relatively smaller, although judging by the throngs of students rushing to make it into the school grounds before the bell, there was a healthy number of students here.

The one thing he really found disagreeable with the Japanese educational system was the strict compliance to school rules and especially the dress code, since it apparently seemed that, unlike the more free-minded American school system he was used to, there was a uniform code for most schools from elementary up till high school, and only university students had the freedom to dress as they liked. Ryoma was uncomfortably aware of the fact as he tugged petulantly at the tight collar of his _gakuran_.

_Well, might as well get used to it_, Ryoma thought with a resigned sigh, making his way to the headmaster's office.

***APATHY***

"Let me be the first to welcome you to Seishun Gakuen, Echizen Ryoma-kun," the elderly principal greeted. "Now, usually we do not accept students after the semester has begun. However, in your case, because of your stellar scores in the acceptance test, as well as your, might I say, glowing history in tennis, as well as other extracurricular activities, we've decided to make an exception in your case."

"I may not be joining the tennis club," Ryoma stated bluntly. It did no good to allow the principal his delusions, after all.

"Ah, yes… Well…"

Ryoma had to admit it was amusing watching the man fumble, trying to come up with a reply to his frankness. Obviously he wasn't used to someone, especially a student, simply saying his mind. After all, students were notorious for prevaricating and flattery, especially troublemakers.

"Well, we'll just see now, won't we?" he finally said, with an obvious forced smile. "Well then, about your schedule – ah, here it is!" the principal brandished a small notepaper. "Due to your excellent results, we've moved you up a grade or two in a few subjects. Here you go, Echizen-kun," he smiled, handing over the piece of paper that was to be his schedule for the next year.

Ryoma skimmed over the small piece of paper. Apparently, he only had Japanese Language/Literature and Japanese History with his own year. World History and Geography were two subjects he was sharing with the second years. His other subjects he apparently had with the third years, including Home Economics and English Language/Literature.

"Do you have any questions, Echizen-kun?" the principal spoke up after allowing him a moment to read through his new schedule.

"No. Thank you for your help, koucho-sensei," Ryoma bowed politely in thanks before excusing himself to make his way to his first class of the day – Japanese Language.

***APATHY***

"I've heard from Koucho-sensei about you, Echizen-kun. It's really wonderful that you've decided to embrace your Japanese roots like this. There is a lot of things about us Japanese that foreigners misunderstand – such as our language, history, and oh, a lot of other things. By the way, I am your homeroom teacher, or at least I am, for the first years. After you greet the first years, you'll have to head on to 2-A, and after that, 3-B, although you'll have to hurry if you want to make it before homeroom ends. Just introduce yourself and then stay in 3-B after your introduction there, since your first class will be English Literature for today. Thankfully, you only have to rush for this first day, so you'll have a more normal pace by tomorrow. Oh, and if your first class is with the first-years, second-years, and third-years, you'll have to head to their homeroom respectively for your attendance marking. Now, is there anything you don't know or understand? The teachers will be delighted to help you, you know."

It was official. The homeroom teacher he had for his first year classes was a ditz. For someone barely a head taller than him, who is remarkably small for his age range, she talked a lot. She hadn't stopped talking since they left the staff room, and made their way towards his first year classroom, whether it was to point out this or that landmark, or elaborate on her subject (Japanese Language/Literature), or express her amazement at his _courage_ to brave a new country. Ryoma made sure to keep his outward expression impassive, although he was inwardly grimacing. He'd never met someone who could… talk SO much. The teacher didn't look like she needed to breathe or take a break in the middle of her monologue.

"Well, here we are."

They had finally stopped in front of a nondescript-looking door. A small plaque pronounced the class as 1-B. Apparently this was where he would be having his first year classes for the next year in.

"Now, just wait right here. I have to tell my class that we're going to have a new student join us. Oh! I'm so excited!" She smiled sweetly at Ryoma before sliding the door open and left him to stare at the door and listen as she announced his unexpected enrollment.

"…transferred from America… don't scare him…" the voices were muffled by the door. Ryoma had only waited a few moments before the overly excitable teacher slid the door open again and motioned him to follow her.

Ryoma was uncomfortably aware that he was immediately the source of attraction as soon as he stepped through the door. He could practically feel the couple dozen of heated stares that were glued to him, and barely held in a cringe, although his facial expression betrayed nothing.

"Now, then, Echizen-kun, why don't you say something to introduce yourself to your fellow classmates?" the hyper woman that was his Year One homeroom teacher chirped cheerfully.

_God, was the woman high or something? Hmm… guess I should say something to satisfy their nosiness._

"Echizen Ryoma. Came from America. Yoroshiku," Ryoma ended succinctly. A few of the boys and more than a few girls looked like they were bursting with questions but the unwelcoming, deadpan expression on Ryoma's face and in his voice obviously dissuaded from the foolish notion.

"Um… o-kay. Well, why don't you sit next to the window near the back, Echizen-kun?" the teacher's voice fell a little flat, her previous perkiness still there but toned down quite a bit, to a tolerable level, at least.

Ryoma wordlessly made his way to the seat in question, fully aware that his classmates were still watching him. As he pulled the chair out from under his desk, the creaking sound that the chair made sliding on the floor seemed to echo especially loudly. In fact, it seemed like a signal to the other students, for they all started whispering with their neighbours at once, stealing occasional glances at him.

Ryoma could just barely stifle the sigh he desperately wanted to let out.

***APATHY***

"Ne, Echizen-kun, where in America did you stay?"

"North America," he deadpanned.

"What do you like to do in your free time, then?"

"Sleep." It wasn't really a lie – Ryoma did indeed enjoy sleeping, he just didn't say that he liked other activities besides sleeping.

"Do you have a girlfriend back in America?" one particularly nosy girl asked, fluttering her eyelashes coyly at him. It looked more like she was having a seizure to Ryoma, though.

"I'm twelve," he stated blandly. Although he had no expression, his tone was plainly asking: _Is this girl right in the head?_

His nosy Year One Classmates would have continued their interrogation, had Ryoma not abruptly pulled out his chair and stood up.

"I'm supposed to head towards the other homerooms. Now, if you don't mind," Ryoma said, walking quickly towards the classroom door. He slid it open, stepped out and as soon as the door closed with a click, couldn't help but lean against it in a moment of relief.

And to think he had to do this two more times…

***APATHY***

_ What really happened in 1-B…_

"Okay, kids. I have a little surprise for you!" Ishikawa Reiko-sensei, the homeroom teacher for 1-B smiled in a 'I know something you don't' kind of way. "We have a new student – and guess what? He's a transfer student, all the way from America!"

The class literally exploded in noise. After all, transferees were rare, and one from abroad was even rarer. Ishikawa-sensei waved her arms for silence, and after much of the clamour had slowed down, she began speaking again.

"Now, his name is Echizen Ryoma-kun. He's Japanese, but has been living in America all this while, so he might not know much about Japanese culture and other such things. So it's up to us all, to tell him how wonderful and beautiful being Japanese is, but be careful not to scare him! Now, are you with me?" she whispered conspiringly, careful not to let her voice be too loud, so as not to alert the new student to the… ahem, wonderful surprise she had set up for him.

The class remained silent for a moment after her passionate declaration, before a few awkward voices spoke out in answer to her rallying call. "Oh…"

Ishikawa-sensei took no notice of it, however, because right after, she smiled. "That's great! Now I'll go and let him in, so we can all greet him properly!"

_Meanwhile, in 2-A…_

"Momoshiro! Kaidoh! Must you start fighting first thing in the morning?" the homeroom teacher for 2-A shouted angrily, adding a hard smack with her clipboard onto the teacher's desk to emphasize her point.

Really, was it too much to hope for to have one well-behaved student in her class? 2-A was the rowdiest class in the Year 2 classes, given that most of the students in this particular class was very much involved in one extracurricular activity or another. Of course, Kurita Kuina, the homeroom teacher for 2-A, was exceedingly proud of her students who shone on the court/on the field/in the gym/on stage, etc., but they were the worst students for a teacher to have, hence Kurita-sensei had to preserve a particularly strong image to ensure at least a little discipline in the classroom.

"I hope you'll at least not embarrass yourselves in front of the new student!" she added scathingly to the troublesome tennis duo.

The class immediately quieted, before erupting in uproar.

"Kurita-sensei! Are we really going to have a new classmate?"

"Is it a handsome guy/beautiful girl?"

"Why the late transfer?"

"ENOUGH!" Kurita-sensei yelled again, thankful for the powerful set of lungs God had seen fit to gift her with. "Ask the questions later, when the student is here. Now, let's get on with taking attendance!"

And she would have, too, if the door had not abruptly slid open, revealing a young boy in the typical _gakuran _uniform of Seishun Gakuen, although there wasn't any pin to his lapel indicating his year grade.

"Excuse me, but I was asked to report here, Sensei."

"Oh, that's right. You must be the new transfer, Echi-"

And yet again, there was a tumultuous interruption from the most troublesome duo of Class 2-A.

"Ah, it's YOU!" Momoshiro Takeshi shouted, pointing accusingly at the new transfer.

"Echizen?" Kaidoh Kaoru hissed in question at the same time, his eyes slightly wider in surprise.

The next moment, as if on cue, both boys swiveled around to glare at each other, leaving one very befuddled Echizen Ryoma.

"Ahem!" Kurita-sensei cleared her throat pointedly, breaking the unexpected glaring competition. "So, Momoshiro, Kaidoh, you both know our new transfer student, huh? Since you seem so enthusiastic upon seeing him, why don't you share with the class how you've met Echizen-kun? Hmm?" she smiled predatorily.

Momoshiro and Kaidoh stood up immediately, almost as if someone had lit a firecracker and thrown it at them.

"Uh… we met at a fast food place and were sharing a table and well…" Momoshiro's voice trailed off, his cheeks coloring slightly.

"I helped with his shopping," Kaidoh stated tonelessly.

"Ah," the practically forgotten transfer student exclaimed suddenly, his expressive golden eyes widened in realization. "Kaidoh-san," he nodded in Kaidoh's direction as acknowledgement, before turning to stare inquisitively at the other boy whom he'd apparently met at a fast food restaurant, although no particular memory came to mind.

Momoshiro accurately discerned the reason for the confusion in the golden-eyed stare and to tell the truth, he was getting a little intimidated, despite the diminutive size of the transfer student. "Oh, come on! You've got to remember me!" Momoshiro shouted in frustration, seeing as the boy obviously remembered the _Mamushi_, but not him. "We had lunch at the same table, you know, with the Ichinen San-gumi(Trans: literally, Freshman Trio)!"

There was no answering spark of realization or recognition at all, and the new kid just continued staring at him.

Momoshiro just _knew_ Kaidoh was laughing inside his head at his embarrassing display.

"Well… a-nyway, this is Echizen Ryoma-kun, from America. He's Japanese but has been living in America for a long time. Please introduce yourself, Echizen," Kurita-sensei smiled the same predatory smile Ryoma had seen her flash at the two glaring boys earlier, and somehow knew that she was the kind of sensei who would pick and prod at him if he offered the same lack of detail answer he'd given the hyper sensei from Year One.

"Echizen Ryoma. I'm twelve years old and I've been staying in America. Yoroshiku," Ryoma stated plainly. That was likely the least amount of detail he could get away with under the sharp eyes of the Year Two sensei. Ryoma made sure to glance back at the sensei to be sure he could get away with it, but unexpectedly, she didn't say anything to hint at disapproval. Just when he was about to relax from the tension, there was a sudden deluge of questions from his older classmates.

"Eh, you're only twelve and you're in Year Two?"

"Yeah, what's up with that?"

"Are you any good at track? You look like you could be, with those slender legs." 

"Not everyone is a track and field _baka_ like you! How about baseball?"

"Or maybe he isn't interested in sports at all! If that's the case, the Drama Club welcomes you!"

And on it went. Despite his poker face, Ryoma was panicking inwardly. He never expected there would be a whole class of kids who would simply bowl over his vibes of _don't-come-closer_ like this! Of course, that might be because they were all together in one room, rather than facing him one-on-one. Power to the united, and all that stuff, perhaps. Ryoma glanced at the sensei in a silent plea for help, but immediately narrowed his eyes. If her twitching lips and mischievously glinting eyes were any indication, she wouldn't be offering him help anytime soon.

He was slightly off the mark. She helped, by the _tiniest_ margin.

"Okay! Let's not scare the kid! I'll pick five of you randomly, and you can only ask one question each, which Echizen will have to answer. Is that all right with you, Echizen?"

"I-"

"Great!" the woman interrupted, smiling in an overly bright way – the kind of smile loansharks wore, just before they started threatening you. "Now since Kaidoh and Momoshiro apparently know Echizen from before, you'll be the first two!" she grinned, amidst groans from the rest of the class and a smug smirk from Momoshiro.

"Why are you in Second Year, if you're only twelve years old?" asked Momoshiro excitedly.

Ryoma was about to give a smartass answer or the shortest answer possible – he couldn't really decide which – when there was another interruption from the _evil_ sensei.

"In detail, please, Echizen, or else we'll have you answer another question for each lack-of-detail answer!" she warned cheerily. Her tone reminded Ryoma faintly of the Joker, from Batman.

"I'm not in First, Second or Third Year specifically. Because the American schooling system is different, I'm more educated in different subjects that place me for those subjects in different year grades," Ryoma finally acquiesced.

"Fsshh… do you play tennis, on a competitive level?"

"No," Ryoma answered. He wasn't really lying, he meant that he wasn't playing anymore, but no one needed to know he was a natural tennis prodigy.

"Okay, then…" the sensei smiled, "since Kaidoh and Momoshiro have had their turns, I'll pick randomly from the name list, starting from now. Hmm… Arai, your turn!"

A boy wearing a green headband that held most of his brown hair back from his face, accompanied with a cocky grin that somehow got on Ryoma's nerves, stood up, although it looked more like a slouch, since he was leaning heavier on one foot and had his arms crossed.

"Do you play any sports at all, _gaki_?" the previously named Arai sneered mockingly.

"I'm not joining any club with you in it," Ryoma mocked back, amidst snickers from the rest of the class and a louder guffaw from Momoshiro.

"Okay, Arai, you've had your turn," Kurita-sensei hastily interrupted, seeing Arai open his mouth in a snarl, although her twitching lips belied her amusement. The kid, and she didn't mean Echizen, was really too cocky for his own good or his abilities, seeing as he wasn't yet part of the regulars in the tennis club, but Echizen had a smart mouth on him, too.

"Now, then… Yoshinaga!"

A rather plain-looking girl stood up, and shyly pushed the thick-looking glasses she wore further up the bridge of her nose, before shyly twirling one of the twin braids she had her nondescript black hair in.

"Um… Echizen-kun, I was wondering… if you could tell me more about the part of America you lived in, please?" she smiled politely.

"My family mainly stayed in California in my younger years, where it's sunny and hot all year round, although in recent years, we started moving around quite frequently," Ryoma replied, mentally adding, 'due to the frequent tennis meets I was entered in.'

"And lastly, Matsuzaka!"

Another girl with short spiky hair that _had_ to be dyed to get that particular shade of cyan blue smiled a sharp-toothed grin at him.

"Are you interested in joining the Cosplay Club?"

"Matsuzaka!" Kurita-sensei admonished sternly, interrupting whatever Ryoma had to say. "What have I told you about wearing the props from club activities in class?"

"But, sensei…" the girl whined.

"No buts! Now remove those artificial fangs immediately, and I want to see your hair in its normal colour by tomorrow!"

"Sensei, we have a convention coming up tomorrow, and the dye takes at least a day to set in!"

"You're breaking the school rules, so unless you want to add another detention to your growing list, you'll do as I say!"

No one noticed the transfer student had already snuck out as the old argument between Cosplay Club and Kurita-sensei flared up for what was not the first time, and most likely, not the last time, either.

_In the meantime, in Class 3-B…_

"Ne… Tezuka, I've heard there will be a new transfer student joining us seniors for a few selected classes," Fuji smiled slyly, glancing at his expressionless neighbor, who was steadily reading his notebook.

"Hn," Tezuka answered, not falling for Fuji's bait, unlike a certain redhead.

"Really, Fuji? What does that mean? Does that mean he's not a senior like us, and why only a few classes? Huh? Tell me! Tell me!" Kikumaru whined petulantly, only subsiding at the stern stare Tezuka directed at him.

Fuji chuckled and turned around to fully face his redheaded seatmate. "Oishi and I heard the rumor when we walked past the staffroom this morning. Apparently, he's a twelve-year-old transfer student from America, and he's taking a few classes with the freshmen, the juniors and us seniors, because he scored at different levels in his entrance examinations. The teachers were grumbling about the headaches they had following his application, trying to manage his schedule."

"Did you hear his name?" Inui piped up in interest, already pulling out his notebook and pen.

"No, but don't you think it's odd that he's coming in after the entrance ceremony? Is it for health reasons, I wonder?" Oishi bit his lip in worry.

"Speaking of new kids, I saw a new face a few days ago. It wouldn't so coincidentally be the new transfer student, would it?" Kawamura grinned curiously, to which Inui opened his mouth, most likely to offer the percentage of likelihood that the new face Kawamura saw was the transfer student, when there was a sudden knock on the classroom door. Said door slid open shortly, and a boyish and vaguely familiar face, to at least these six particular seniors, looked in.

"Excuse me; is homeroom for the third years over already?" Ryoma asked all the students in general, seeing as there didn't seem to be a sensei in sight.

A boy – Ryoma guessed it was a boy, seeing as the boy looked more like a man, really – wearing prim, rectangular glasses, and had a stern, but not unwelcoming, face stood and walked towards him, amidst the sudden silence of the classroom.

"Echizen Ryoma?" the boy asked, as soon as he was standing face-to-face with Ryoma.

Ryoma nodded noiselessly, still slightly overwhelmed by the overall prim-and-proper image of the boy. The guy definitely looked too straitlaced and stern for a middle school student, especially a teenage boy; Ryoma just managed to resist asking the guy his age, just to make sure he really was a student and not the sensei in disguise, although it would be rather pointless since the bespectacled guy was wearing a _gakuran_ similar to his own, if quite a few sizes larger, and had a pin to his lapel proclaiming that he was a senior.

"My name is Tezuka Kunimitsu. I am the class president for 3-B. Our regular homeroom sensei had an unfortunate accident in Woodworking a few days ago and will be out sick until after the next week. As you are here, I will mark you as present," the older boy intoned passively.

_ God, even his voice is an old man's voice, _thought Ryoma, although he wisely didn't say anything. After all, the guy was not only taller than him, but he didn't look like someone to cross. Ryoma had never cared much about offending other people, and was usually blunt as a rock, but this guy had an almost familiar aura, much like his father – the rare few times he was serious, that is. Which could be counted on one hand.

So Ryoma simply nodded in reply.

Tezuka gave a nod in affirmation and stepped to the side to allow the smaller, and younger boy to enter the classroom. The class was silent, unlike the first and second years' classes, most likely due to the imposing presence of the stern class president, and watched as the newest object of interest stepped in.

Tezuka spared a glance at the younger boy beside him and addressed the class. "This is Echizen Ryoma. He will be joining the third years for a few selected classes, based on his entrance exam results."

Looking at the class as a whole, Tezuka tried to spot an empty seat for the newest partial member of 3-B, and determinedly ignoring catching the eye of Inui, Fuji and the over-enthusiastic waving of Kikumaru. "Echizen," he said, turning back to the smaller boy, "your seat will be next to Oishi."

Oishi stood up in response, gesturing to an empty seat located conveniently next to the window, and coincidentally placed where Ryoma would be surrounded by the most harmless of the third year tennis regulars – Kawamura in front, Oishi to his right, and Kikumaru at the upper right corner – not that Ryoma knew of the considerable thought Tezuka had expended when considering where to place him. "Over here, Echizen."

Ryoma nodded complacently and made his way to the aforementioned seat and sat before turning towards the window, his sharp golden gaze watching as the wind blew an errant leaf across the window sill. He was determinedly ignoring his seat mates in favor of his bored observations, when he was startled out of it by a sudden weight on his thin shoulders and strong arms clasping him in a hug, although the overly hyper voice chirping, "Ochibi! Welcome to Seigaku!" was a good clue as well.

"I'm Kikumaru Eiji, and this is Oishi Shuiichiro! We're best friends and partners!" the hyperactive redhead grinned, introducing himself and his… _partner_.

"… So you two are in a relationship?" Ryoma asked, one slender eyebrow raised almost to his hairline. It was rare that a guy would actually broadcast his sexuality if he was anything other than hetero, so either the redhead was warning Ryoma off his apparent boyfriend, or that particular information was common knowledge.

Kikumaru jumped away from Ryoma as if scalded, and started spluttering, which was also what Oishi did, while gesturing wildly, although Ryoma noted that both their faces were red with embarrassment, rather than having expressions of disgust at the idea of being with another male.

"Heh, what Eiji means is that they're partners in doubles tennis," a smooth, slightly familiar voice chuckled, catching Ryoma's attention. He looked up to see another rather familiar face that he really had no particular desire to see again – the blind stalker, apparently.

Fuji smiled, and Ryoma again felt the assessing stare even if the other guy's eyes were obviously closed. "We meet again, _boya_. Oops, I mean, Echizen Ryoma-kun. What a… coincidence."

Ryoma felt a slight shudder tickle his spine at the pause. For all his kindly demeanor, Ryoma could sense the other guy was not someone that he wanted to tangle with.

"My name is Fuji Syuusuke, and I guess, we'll be… classmates from today onwards."

Cue the shudder again.

A slim, work-roughened finger tapped on his desk, again drawing Ryoma's attention from the slightly creepy, yet oddly beautiful Fuji Syuusuke, and this time, Ryoma faced front, coming face-to-face with a boy with spiked up brown hair and a kind face with a smile, giving off the genuine kindly air like Oishi, and _unlike_ Fuji.

"Hello, my name is Kawamura Takashi," he smiled warmly. "I'm not sure if you remember, but you came by my family's place for sushi a few days ago – Kawamura Sushi."

Ryoma's face remained impassive as he tried to recall ever seeing his front seat mate in the few days he'd been in Japan. Needless to say, he drew a blank, although he did remember the traditional Japanese restaurant he'd stopped at and the nice sushi he'd had there, and since that was the only time he'd had Japanese sushi since arriving in Japan, it must be where Kawamura was talking about.

"I remember the restaurant," he offered, making no mention that he didn't remember the boy at all, but it seemed good enough for Kawamura, since his smile warmed.

"What a coincidence meeting you here, _Echizen_ Ryoma-kun," a silky voice, much like Fuji's, said smugly, and this time, Ryoma again spotted another face that he had not really wanted to see again – the overly inquisitive, which is not a compliment, by the way, Inui-san. Apparently, the bespectacled third year was smug at having discovered his surname despite Ryoma's previous efforts at avoiding his questions, going by the way he emphasized the word.

"Inui-san," Ryoma greeted reluctantly.

"Nani, nani, Inui, you know Ochibi?" Kikumaru interjected, recovered from his spluttering.

Inui surreptitiously slid his glasses higher up the bridge of his nose, before replying, "Aa. Kaidoh and I were doing some shopping and we helped him with his a few days ago."

"Eh… how unusual for you to help someone, Inui," Kikumaru mumbled skeptically, although Inui's sharp ears immediately caught the almost inaudible murmur.

"What did you say, Kikumaru-_kun_?" he asked, his glasses glinting.

Now, if that wasn't a subtle threat, then Ryoma didn't know what was. And judging by how Kikumaru shuddered, he knew it was a threat too.

"Anyway, since you're new – why don't you have lunch with us later?" Oishi smiled kindly.

Ryoma was just about to refuse the admittedly kind-hearted offer, but the sudden entrance of the teacher halted all conversation, or more appropriately, Tezuka's reprimanding glare silenced all of them and they returned to their respective seats obligingly. Oishi took the chance just as Tezuka had returned his attention to the lesson going on, and mouthed, 'See you at lunch,' at Ryoma.

Ryoma pretended he hadn't seen the older boy's gesture and turned his gaze back to the window, as if captivated by something outside, ignoring the slight twinge of guilt he felt at ignoring what was obviously a genuinely nice effort to befriend him, yet still determined to avoid actually having lunch with the third years.

***APATHY***

As soon as the bell signaling the beginning of lunch rang, Ryoma shot out of his seat, determined to escape actually going to lunch with his third-year classmates. Unfortunately, his efforts to escape hit a snag in the form of a hyperactive redhead who had slung his arms around the diminutive younger boy.

"Eh, where are you going, Ochibi? You've gotta wait a bit for the rest of us, you know," Kikumaru grinned, his surprisingly firm grip not allowing Ryoma to get free.

Ryoma watched helplessly now that his plan was foiled, as the rest of the third years gathered into their own peer groups and wandered out of the classroom, whilst he remained firmly captured in Kikumaru's grip. The two were soon joined by Oishi, Kawamura, Tezuka, Fuji and Inui, and the group moved as one towards the cafeteria.

Well, at least the good news was that Kikumaru had finally released him to hang off a blushing Oishi. Unfortunately, Ryoma found himself sandwiched between Inui and Fuji who had obviously picked up on his desires to run as fast as possible in the opposite direction, if Fuji's arm around his shoulder and Inui walking so close to him, was any indication.

"And this is our cafeteria, Ochibi!" Kikumaru said, spreading his arms in a 'Wa-La' moment just as they reached the doorway leading into the cafeteria. Ryoma didn't even have to go in to know that the cafeteria would be crowded with throngs of students at this particular moment, especially since there were already raucous shouts and laughter resonating from just beyond the doorway that proclaimed the presence of multitudes of students. He really had no particular desire to be crushed by the other students, so he reluctantly said the first words that he'd spoken since being in the presence of these particular overbearing third-years.

"I don't need to buy anything, senpai. I've brought a bento."

Any hopes of using that as an excuse to escape the third years was immediately dashed when Fuji unexpectedly said, "Oh, that's okay. Eiji can buy a _yakisoba_ bun for me, and I'll show Ryoma to our usual place. I'll pay you back later, okay?" he said, directing his question towards the redhead.

"A-Okay, Fujiko! I'll get it for you, and we'll see you at our usual spot!"

With those words, the rest of the third years made their way into the crowded cafeteria. Ryoma felt an inexplicable urge to ask them not to leave him with the blind stalker, but stomped down on said urge ruthlessly. He would _not_ be afraid of being alone together with Fuji. Ryoma had never been afraid of anything in his life, except for his mother during PMS, and that would be his only fear. He was _not_ going to be nurturing a new fear any time soon, or further in the future.

It was a gift that despite his inner turbulence, Ryoma's face remained impassive, while Fuji pulled him along to the Lockers area.

"Come on, Ryoma-kun. Aren't we going to get your bento?" Fuji smiled gently, amused at the younger boy's obvious reluctance to join them for lunch.

***APATHY***

The third years' 'spot' appeared to be on the school grounds, right under the cool shade of two trees whose branches intersected, with a conveniently placed bench which, by the time Fuji and Ryoma had reached the place, was already claimed by Tezuka and Inui, while Kawamura, Oishi and Kikumaru was arranged haphazardly on the grass. None of them had started lunch yet, apparently waiting for Ryoma and Fuji to arrive.

"Heads up, Fuji!" Kikumaru exclaimed as a warning, before tossing a wrapped bread bun that was apparently Fuji's lunch request at him. Fuji caught the food missile expertly and collapsed right next to Oishi, who was leaning against one of the two trees. As he still had his hand around one of Ryoma's own arms, Ryoma was forced to either sit down next to him or stumble ungracefully.

It was obvious which course of action Ryoma chose – resigned to the fact that he would be joining the obstinate third-year group for lunch.

Apparently, the lunch group did not simply include the third years, as two more familiar faces joined the group.

"Hey, senpai – Ah! Echizen!"

Ryoma looked up to see the spiky-haired second year who had apparently shared a table with him and was currently pointing at him, almost in accusation.

"What are you doing here?"

"The senpai-tachi invited me," Ryoma replied boredly, pausing before deciding to offer an olive branch for the first time in his life, to make peace with the second year whom he'd obviously offended by not remembering him. "Momoshiri-kun?" he said it as if it were a question. (AN: For those who don't know, this means 'Peach Butt'.)

There was such a sudden silence that you could almost hear a pin drop. It seemed even the trees had stopped swaying in the wind, before the silence was broken by a hissing sort of laughter from Kaidoh, which sparked off the others' own bouts of laughter, although Tezuka remained stone-faced.

The second year seemed to have developed a tick in his right eye although he slapped what was obviously a forced smile onto his face before correcting Ryoma, "It's _Momoshiro_."

"Oh, don't be upset, Momo!" Kikumaru chirped, slinging an arm around the second-year's shoulders. "Ochibi just came back from America, after all! It's given he would make a mistake like say your name wrong or something!"

Momoshiro acquiesced the fact with a grunt, but he was obviously still offended.

Ryoma sighed inaudibly. The one time he actually gave an effort to be nice, he committed a worse offense. Well, at least he knew better now. He decided to stop thinking about the matter and proceeded to open his bento box, looking forwards to enjoying his Japanese-style lunch. One good thing about being in Japan alone without his parents was that he could eat what he wanted and there was no one to say anything about his choice of food.

"Wow, Ochibi! Your mom must have worked very hard to make your bento!" Kikumaru praised, looking over Ryoma's shoulder. Ryoma was slightly startled as he hadn't noticed the redhead's approach.

His bento box had a _tamagoyaki_, a couple rolls of _Inarizushi_, _onigiri_ and _tempura_ prawns, with a fruit salad as a side, and Kikumaru and Momoshiro drooled over the contents, whilst sadly looking at their own lunch of _yakisoba_ bread and melon bread.

"I made the bento," Ryoma corrected mildly.

The reactions were varied.

Kikumaru and Momoshiro's jaws dropped, while Inui started scribbling furiously in his ever-present notebook. Kawamura's eyes held a hint of respect whereas Fuji seemed to be renewing his appraisal of Ryoma. Kaidoh hissed in surprise, whilst Oishi gave an admiring smile and even Tezuka seemed to be surprised by Ryoma's expertise in the kitchen, if his raised eyebrow was any indication. Apparently an eleven year old being good in the kitchen was an unheard of phenomena.

Kikumaru was the first to break out of his awe-induced stupor, with a shrill, "Sugoi, ne, Ochibi!", prompting the others to offer words of praise for Ryoma's apparent culinary skills.

Ryoma's lips offered a slight twitch in acknowledgement of their praise, and proceeded to enjoy his homemade bento box, resolutely ignoring the pleading looks from Kikumaru and Momoshiro, even as they were munching on their own lunches.

"Ne, Tezuka," Inui said, quite suddenly breaking the silence, aside from the typical noises of chewing and eating, "have you discussed with Ryuuzaki-sensei about the placement for the Kanto Prelims, yet?"

"Oi, oi, Inui," Oishi reprimanded quickly, "we still have to go through the ranking tournament, don't we?"

"But it's not like there are any really good players from the club aside from us, anyways, Oishi," Kikumaru sighed with a defeated air, very unlike his usual bouncy, hyperactive self. "At this point, it's almost like the ranking tournament is just a formality."

"What Kikumaru said is accurate, Oishi," Inui piped up, pulling yet another notebook, it seemed, out of thin air. "So far none of the new recruits have developed the significant amount of skill that the rest of us had displayed in our first years, and Arai is the best non-regular that we have. However, his 'best' is still quite far from the standard level of a regular," Inui recited calmly, a slim pen tapping against an open page of his notebook.

"What are you talking about?"

Everyone's attention turned towards the newest student in their midst, before assuming appropriate expressions of embarrassment and sheepishness. They had gotten so involved in their discussion/argument, that they had quite forgotten there was a non-member with them.

From what he gathered, this particular group of second- and third-years were all connected through a school club activity wherein they were all members. Their discussion had engendered Ryoma's curiosity, and he couldn't help blurting out the question.

Fuji chuckled softly. "Sorry, Echizen. We forgot you were here with us. We, that is, all of us, here are regular members of the Seishun Gakuen Tennis Club. Tezuka," he gestured at the stern class president of 3-B, "is buchou, and Oishi," Oishi offered a sheepish smile in Ryoma's direction, "is fuku-buchou."

Ryoma's chopsticks paused on the way to his mouth for a minuscule second, before resuming the journey. He had not expected to encounter the Tennis Club members so soon after his enrollment, and their meeting was an entire coincidence too. Ryoma had wanted to observe the Tennis Club on his own terms, but it seemed the Big Guy upstairs had other plans. Perhaps this was some kind of sign.

_Pfft_, _yeah right._

Ryoma had never believed in fate or destiny or any sort of crap like that, given how many company sponsors, coaches, tennis meet organizers back in America had spewed the same kind of rubbish by saying it was his destiny to compete and rise to the summit in the tennis world or some such rot along those lines, and he wasn't going to start now.

Ryoma hummed in response to Fuji's introduction of Tezuka and Oishi as buchou and fuku-buchou of Seishun Gakuen Tennis Club, with no visible disruption to his apathetic expression. It was simply an acknowledgement, expressing nothing of Ryoma's feelings towards such a coincidental, apparently 'fated' meeting of the Tennis Club regulars.

"So… Echizen, are you interested in tennis?" Fuji questioned slyly.

Momoshiro gave a derisive scoff, obviously still feeling offended by Ryoma's previous faux pas. "Don't bother asking, Fuji-sempai. Echizen here doesn't even play tennis at all."

Momoshiro then found himself at the receiving end of Tezuka Kunimitsu Reprimanding-Stare©, and found himself inadvertently blushing in embarrassment and slight apology. He didn't mean to be so dismissive to the new kid, but the word _Momoshiri_ pushed all his buttons, and he couldn't help but react negatively, although he knew that Echizen had not meant to be offensive in any manner. His pride wouldn't let him apologize, though, so Momoshiro simply turned his head the other way. If he couldn't help his mouth spouting off rude things to the new kid, then he might as well not speak at all.

Ryoma simply raised an eyebrow at the unnecessarily hostile manner of the tall second-year but brushed it off quickly. If Momoshiro didn't like him, that was his problem.

"Forgive Momo, Echizen," Fuji gave a placating smile, glaring slightly at the irritated second-year, "he got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. Anyway, do you have even the slightest interest in joining the Tennis Club?"

"What Fuji is trying to say is that we, that is the Seigaku Tennis Club, is considering a second recruitment session. While the batch of first years that joined up right after this year's Entrance Ceremony are certainly enthusiastic, to be honest, they need a little more training to be on par for the competitive level. And since the majority of regulars are made up of third years who will graduate this year…" Oishi trailed off, fully highlighting the apparent problem to Ryoma.

Ryoma was about to completely reject the offer, especially when he heard the words 'competitive level', when he suddenly had a flashback to a certain online conversation.

_*flashback*_

_"What your father says isn't altogether a bad idea, Ryoma. Won't you consider it, at least?" Rinko beseeched kindly._

_"I'll think about it," Ryoma conceded finally. "But if they prove to be not up to standards, we'll never speak of this again. Agreed?"_

_Rinko nodded happily. _

_*flashback end*_

Ryoma's promise held him back, and he inwardly cursed at his own honor of keeping his word. He finally mumbled, almost begrudgingly, "I'll peek in at one of your training days, okay?"

Oishi's answering smile almost weakened his resolve to keep away from the Tennis Club despite everything, but Ryoma swiftly built it back up, deciding only to go this afternoon.

***APATHY***

_Pathetic._

Ryoma glanced at the rows of first years that were practicing their swings as a couple of non-regular second and third years, to put it simply, lorded their seniority over them. At another corner of the admittedly well-equipped tennis courts, some other second- and third-years were loafing around, chatting, neither practicing their tennis skills nor interfering in the subtle bullying of the first years by their peers. Generally, being useless, if Ryoma was to be honest.

If this was what the non-regulars were up to on a usual basis, then Ryoma could definitely see what Oishi meant by the severe lack of talent in the club.

Moreover, the regulars weren't even here yet, and Ryoma slightly reprimanded himself for coming too early. It was his accursed obsession with tennis that his equally accursed father and brother had encouraged in him that made Ryoma hurry to find the tennis courts, even if it was just to determine the skill level of the regulars.

_Speak of the devil,_ came the unbidden thought as Ryoma's sharp golden eyes spotted a mild commotion sweeping across the tennis courts, even as he stood outside the boundary that was the metal fence. _Apparently regulars were treated as demigods in the club,_ he thought with an eyebrow raised in amusement, as the previously loafing second- and third-years imperceptibly straightened from their slacking off, and even the overenthusiastic first years had ceased their swinging practice, to survey the entrance of a group of boys in the notorious blue-and-white jacket that marked the status of a regular.

"Look, look! That's our Tezuka-buchou!" a brown-haired first year standing closely enough to the fence for Ryoma to hear the conversation he was having with his two friends and yet far enough not to notice Ryoma's presence, shrieked excitedly. What was amusing was that his shriek was accompanied by his gesturing at Oishi.

"Ne, Oishi, I don't see Ochibi anywhere!" Kikumaru whined, a petulant pout already forming on his face.

"Maybe he's busy, Eiji. This is, after all, his first day at school. We'll see if he comes for tomorrow's practice," Oishi quickly placated his exuberant doubles partner.

"In the meantime, while we're waiting for Tezuka, want to do some smash practice, Oishi?" Fuji offered, tossing and catching a tennis ball in his right hand while his left hand held onto a basket of tennis balls.

While this was all going on, the brown-haired loudmouth blushed as his two friends glanced at him drily. "Doesn't look like Tezuka-buchou, it seems," one of the two deadpanned to his highly embarrassed friend.

Ryoma was more than a little amused at the comedic conversation when he sensed someone's approach. Ryoma turned to come face-to-face with one of his second year classmates and one not even half as friendly as Momoshiro, too.

"Karai-san," Ryoma intoned in greeting. (Trans: Spicy-san)

His two other friends snorted at the mispronunciation, while the unceremoniously dubbed 'Karai-san' turned red in anger and embarrassment, grabbing onto the lapel of Ryoma's _gakuran _in an obvious effort to intimidate the smaller boy.

"What did you say, _gaki_?" he snarled into Ryoma's face.

His friends who had recovered from their humor quickly worked to restrain the guy by pulling on his arms. "Oi, Arai. You do realize we're right in front of the tennis courts, right?" one hissed urgently.

"Where all the _regulars_ are," the other reminded him hurriedly.

Arai's face twisted: it was apparent he wanted nothing more than to strangle Ryoma for his slip of tongue, but with the threat of retribution for his conduct when in full view of the regulars, he had no choice but to release the smaller boy.

"Heh. I guess I'll just let you go for today, then. You're lucky I'm in a forgiving mood today, Chibi," the taller boy said, in a would-be offhanded manner, if his eyes were not still shooting proverbial fire at Ryoma. Ryoma found himself raising an unimpressed eyebrow, despite knowing that Karai-san or Arai-san or whatever his name was, was on the edge of a proverbial volcanic eruption at the slightest provocation. Just as the older guy reached out again, angrily snarling, most likely to resume his grip on Ryoma's _gakuran_, they were interrupted by a sudden commotion on the courts, inadvertently drawing the attention of the four boys standing outside the fence – only three of whom were actually members of the famed Seigaku Tennis Club.

"Sugoi… the regulars are so skilled…"

"It's incredible…"

"They're on a whole different level…"

It seemed that the first years had again foregone their own swing practice to gawk and stare at the regulars' smash practice. Apparently one of the regulars, in the current case, Oishi, would lob a ball across the net, whereupon another regular, this time, being Fuji, would smash the ball accurately into a basket at Inui's feet, hence the name 'smash practice'. It not only tested the smash power of a tennis player, but also his ability to adjust that power accordingly to allow the tennis ball to go into the basket.

By the looks of it, Fuji had power, accuracy and control in spades, making repeated successful, accurate smashes.

"Hmmph, see that, gaki? That's the level of our regulars. There's absolutely a brat like you could possible aspire to achieve that level in a million years," Ka- no, Arai-san- boasted pridefully.

Rather than annoyance, as one would normally feel, Ryoma felt nothing but amusement at the older boy's antics. For one thing, he had no idea that Ryoma could probably beat all the regulars with his eyes closed _and_ with his right hand, too. For another, and this was the funniest thing, Arai sounded awfully superior when talking about talent not his own.

Ryoma's face revealed nothing, though, even as he felt his lips twitching.

Arai apparently saw it too, and took it as a sign that Ryoma was mocking him, judging by the swift red coloring his cheeks, his fists clenching. He was obviously restraining himself by the reminder that being caught in any sort of violence was a bad idea, especially since they were in perfect view of the regulars. The restraining hands that his two friends had placed on each shoulder probably reminded him pretty well, too.

It was almost like fate, when there was a sudden shout from the courts.

"Shoot, I lobbed too high!" Oishi exclaimed, watching helplessly as the tennis ball soared over Fuji's head. The eyes of the entire tennis club watched the ball's trajectory as it flew into a high arc before being weighed down by gravity into a drop, heading perfectly towards the group of boys just standing beyond the wire fencing that bordered the courts.

Ryoma sensed the ball before his mind actually heard the shout. He automatically reached out and clasped the handle of a convenient tennis racket that was leaning against the fence. With reflexes that were too ingrained to be forgotten, despite his long-time inactivity in the competitive tennis scene, he calmly, and without even turning around, lobbed the ball back over the fence, across the net and straight into the basket.

There was a sudden silence on the courts before all the members gathered their lower jaws from the floor and reattach them to the upper jaws, apparently unable to believe the spectacle.

An accurate lob was much, much harder than an accurate smash, not to mention that Ryoma had actually adjusted the power behind his lob so that the ball would not only make it over the relatively nearby wire fence, cross the courts and land back into the basket.

Chaos erupted.

***APATHY***

The apartment door closed with a snap, and Ryoma leant against it tiredly. He had just barely managed to get away from the chaos he'd inadvertently began, and it was tiring. He'd never imagined that his press-evasion tactics from America could actually be useful here, even as he successfully escaped the wrathful and quite obviously jealous Arai-san and gang, the frantic recruiting techniques employed by the regulars, and even worse, new fans in the form of his excited and hyperactive first-year peers.

It was a good thing that they had strict rules at the Club, forbidding absenteeism from members, or he was sure that they would have chased after him. However…

Based on what little he'd seen of the Club, Ryoma had to admit that the Regulars at least had a certain amount of skill and potential under their belts, although he was hesitant to say that about the rest of the club members. Still, at this point in time, they were still far from what his own standards, ignoring the fact that he was obviously in a league of his own. Perhaps, in time, they would mature to become at least a challenge for him.

But, at the moment, Ryoma felt no guilt as he resolved to stay away from the Tennis Club henceforth.

***APATHY***

AN:

Sorry for late update. I'm graduating this year, and have a lot to do: find a job, find a new place, etc. So updates will be irregular and rare, although I will NEVER abandon this story – so don't worry!

Cheers.


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